


Closer

by Sourcherrymagiks



Series: Your Ex Lover is Dead [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Monster sex, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourcherrymagiks/pseuds/Sourcherrymagiks
Summary: He rubs the back of his neck and mutters something that sounds a lot like ‘monster sex’“Pardon?”“Imeanwithwingsandfangsandstuff.”“Love, that doesn’t really explain quite what you want. Mostly because it’s not a word.”“I want, um, I want to, I want all of you, vampire stuff too. I thought, I dunno, my wings and tail too. Like our whole selves. No hiding stuff.”
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Your Ex Lover is Dead [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593220
Comments: 38
Kudos: 258





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> This follows directly on from ‘Your Ex Lover is Dead’ 
> 
> You don’t need to have read that to read this but you do need to know that it is set approx 8 years post Wayward Son. Simon and Baz split up following whatever went down at Watford and Baz moved to Paris. Simon arranged to be Baz’s blind date and then convinced him to give their relationship another go. Both have become very skilled at hiding their true selves from everyone around them (what’s new?)
> 
> ‘Your Ex Lover" is a bit better than I’ve made it sound here. I’m not blessed with description writing skills 😁
> 
> A huge thank you to [Aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias) for beta’ing this. There are very few people who will help you find the limits to your monster porn and I’m so thankful 💕

**Baz**

Simon runs his hand through my hair and then nips my neck. 

He does this now. We do this now. We haven’t even tried to rejoin the real world properly yet. I want to keep him here in this holiday world for as long as possible before we have to face reality. 

In this reality Simon Salisbury is going to be mine forever. In this apartment in Paris there is no Coven, no need to plan my return to England, no need to explain how we got here or what the fuck we’ve been doing for the last eight years.  
  
The only concession we’ve made is some faint attempt to work. Nothing about the way we approach tasks has changed since Watford. 

Simon has flashes of brilliance, dedicates himself to the task single-mindedly, then eats carbs. I have to bite my tongue to prevent myself showering him with praise. His illustrations are so good. It’s an odd career path for a former chosen one but, Crowley, it suits him. 

Unfortunately, I still have to apply regular diligence to my work to make the progress I expect of myself. Today the words aren’t coming. I might never finish this book if Simon keeps stroking me like that. Ah well.

“It may have escaped your attention, my love, but some of us are trying to work,” I point out.

“Nothing you do escapes my attention, you gorgeous prat – you haven’t written a word in ages. I think you need some inspiration."

He’s looking at me like he didn’t just make ‘inspiration’ sound like the most suggestive word in the English language. (Crowley, he’s a handful.) 

"I am open to suggestions, Snow." I raise my eyebrow as I say it and I’ve got the little bastard now. 

He rubs the back of his neck and mutters something that sounds a lot like ‘monster sex’

“Pardon?” 

“Imeanwithwingsandfangsandstuff.”

“Love, that doesn’t really explain quite what you want. Mostly because it’s not a word.”

“I want, um, I want to, I want all of you, vampire stuff too. I thought, I dunno, my wings and tail too. Like our whole selves. No hiding stuff.”

I could cry. I thought he was trying to lure me into kink (I’m not averse to being lured anywhere by him) but what he’s asking for is different. No hiding. Whole selves. 

I can’t answer without tearing up so instead I stand up and take him in my arms. He tips his face up to look at me.

“I want all of you. Everything."

"I won’t bite you, Simon. I can’t."

I say this with an absolute certainty that I don’t really feel. I’ve never bitten a human but everything I’ve learnt since Vegas indicates that it’s not a problem. No one needs to get hurt. No one needs to die. No one needs to be Turned. 

It’s entirely my own hang up. Too many years repressing the urge has left me tied up in knots on the subject. 

"Not today,” he agrees. “Just – I just want you to be you."

He just wants me. (Not today? He expects to be bitten. Just not today. Fucking hell). All of me. Crowley. 

**Simon**

I’m not sure where to go from here. I’m not sure why I’m feeling shy about this. He’s seen my wings loads. He’s never flinched from them or treated me like a freak. But he’s also never fucked me with them out. (My fault. I drew the lines.) 

Baz knows, though. 

He whips my t shirt off while I’m still stuck over asking my fiancé for monster sex. (I’m a disaster.) 

Baz whispers, “Show me”, into my mouth and it’s so fucking hot I nearly faint. 

“You too, love,” I tell him, but he’s kissing my neck and I can already feel his fangs grazing me. 

Siegfried and fucking Roy, I was not ready for that. Heat flushes through me and I melt into him. Yes. Wings. I was doing wings. 

I’m still not great at controlling my magic – it takes a bit of concentration. And who can concentrate when Baz is doing that?

Breathe. 

Wings.

Baz gasps as they burst out. They are a fucking production. Everything in the apartment shivers as they shift the air. Papers drift to the floor. Baz’s hair stirs around his face. I feel obscene, too flashy, too bright. It’s been a long time. My stupid tail lashes the floor then twines around his leg. My tail has no chill. It wants what it wants. 

"Simon––”

His voice is all breathy and low. There’s a catch in it where his fangs change the shape of his mouth. It’s devastating. I reckon if I let him keep talking, I could come without him touching me. It would be a waste, though. 

“Can I? Will you?” I shake my head. I can’t–– “Let me show you.” (One fucking day I will be able to call the right words at the right time. Until then I’m going to have to show him exactly how to fuck me.) 

"After you, Snow."

  
 **Baz**

Thank Merlin this apartment is roomy because he’s no better at keeping his wings under control than he was all those years ago. I suppose he’s out of practice. I’m not even going to pretend that his tail winding around me isn’t heightening every sensation, letting great ripples of lust loose across my skin. 

He kisses me as he backs me up to the bed. He’s about to shove me back when he spots the problem. 

“Clothes, Baz...”

I don’t give him chance to finish before my hands are tugging at his jeans. He wears them loose, low and soft. They put up so little resistance, pooling on the floor at his feet. His pants take slightly more work. (Well, ‘the keeping my hands off what’s under his pants’ is what takes the work. It’s bad enough when he’s got his tail under control, but with it thrashing about – Merlin, I’m barely sane.) 

“Thanks, love, but I meant you,” he says.

"Go ahead. No ripping please, sweetheart.” 

I want him to rip, though. I need him to need. He has to prove that he means ‘all of me’. 

“Not even a little?” He pulls the top two buttons off my shirt. 

"Simon.” I try to sound stern but instead I just sound desperate. He licks the edge of his lip. That’s the end of this outfit then. He goes completely feral on the rest of my clothes then shoves me onto the bed. 

“You are an absolute atrocity, an utter shambles”

"I’m your atrocity, though, love, and I’m waiting to be fucked, please.”

“You want to ...?“

“Please.”

I still find this surprising. It’s been nearly three weeks, but I’m still taken aback by how much he wants me. How many ways he wants me. How it always comes back to this.   
I suppose I assumed he would always want to be in control. But, honestly, I don’t care as long as it’s him.

He’s forcing a bottle of lube into my hand while he licks my nipple so it’s perhaps not the time to overthink. 

**Simon**

Baz is thinking and I can’t have thinking right now. I’m having a hard time keeping my tongue off his fangs. (Which is probably not acceptable. But the more I think about it, the more desperately I want him to bite me. I’m going to have to work him up to that, though. One step at a time.) 

Right now, he’s pointedly ignoring the lube I tried to force on him.

Instead he’s tracing the scars on my chest. He pushes at me until I’m sat back on my heels between his legs. 

“This one – I haven’t seen this one before?” He runs a hand across the jagged scar on my right wing “Or this one. Simon, tell me."

I do not want to tell him. I want him to fuck me with his fingers, and then fuck me. 

But we said whole selves. 

"I still fight. When I’m needed. I get hurt sometimes. I don’t heal like I did when I was fourteen anymore."

"What the fuck, Snow?”

I don’t know what he’s thinking but he’s got a look on his face like he might set fire to the Coven. This is going to take some explaining. 

"Not often. I’m more of a deterrent."

“A deterrent to whom, Simon?”

“Anyone who tries to fuck with Watford. I won’t have it. I can’t let anyone else get hurt.”

He’s shaking his head at me, but he’s not stopped touching me.   
His fingers along my scars are too much. His concern is too much. I can’t ....

"Hey, Simon. Stay with me"

Then he’s kissing me and the calm rolls back in followed quickly by the hunger. 

**Baz**

He’s got that look, slightly glazed but determined. I want him, but not like this. This just hurts. 

I drag him into a kiss and run the back of my hand over his scar. Without really thinking it through my hand is on his face and I’m pushing a finger into his mouth. So much moaning, it’s impossible to tell which one of us it is. Simon’s coming back, second by second. I’m bringing him back. I can bring him back. 

I trace the damp finger over the ridges of the scar and he arches up into it.

“I love all of you, Simon. All of the stories in your skin." 

My hands are all over the marks on his wing and he’s sighing now, relaxing into me. Accepting my acceptance. 

I’m trying to work out how on earth I’m going to manage this around his wings when he pushes up and thrusts the lube at me again before twisting around so he’s up on all fours. He pulls me to him with his tail. 

I’m enjoying this battle over the lube too much though. It’s still not time. There’s so much more to explore right now.

"Fuckingfuckbazfuckyespleasefuckbazpleasepleasepleasefuck.”

I think that’s definitive proof that Simon doesn’t mind the delay. After all, my tongue is in his arse. He tastes of magic and butter and Simon. I can’t get enough of him, all of him. 

I’m so weak for this. Licking and sucking and nudging and circling and tasting. Breathing is a tedious interruption. I want to bury my fucking face in him. 

I feel like I might not be taking full advantage of the whole scenario, so I move my hand up to the base of his tail and give it an exploratory squeeze. Simon keens, a high-pitched noise that thrills me. 

The possibilities here are dizzying. His tail decides to illustrate one option by winding around my arm and pulling me in. 

I grip his tail exactly the same way I do his cock and give it a few long strokes. Simon’s knees are shaking. I’m about to go back to licking him when the end of his tail pushes into my mouth. Fucking hell.

If the utterly disgraceful stream of nonsense peppered with filth that is simply streaming out of his mouth is anything to go by, Simon might be passingly fond of this rather unique. experience too. 

I need to be so very careful, but I also need him. 

I run my fangs over the end of his tail and he screams (actually screams) and thrusts his arse towards me. Again, again, again. I want to fucking bite him. Not just bite him – actually bite him. (If he’s willing to let me suck his tail, then surely we are way past trivial nonsense like vampire etiquette.)  
I want him to bleed into my mouth. I want, I want, I want. 

Now it’s time for lube. Now I need to be inside him. 

He’s so hot, always burning up. He pushes back up onto his knees, so his back is flush against my chest, when I bury my fingers in his arse. And I shouldn’t – or I should ask – but before I can stop myself, my teeth are on the joint between wing and skin. 

Simon clenches around my fingers and sighs. 

“More. Do that. More, Baz. Please.”

  
**Simon**

I thought I was going to die when he was eating my arse. Then I though I had died when he started sucking off my tail (how is that a thing? A completely amazing thing.)  
All of that is nothing compared to him biting my wings. That is fairly fucked up – I don’t care, though. I just want more. 

“Fucking bite me, Baz. Bite me. Properly."

He does. Not vampire bites (although I can feel his fangs), but good hard bites. Not far from drawing blood. I try not to think about him properly biting me. I’ll come now if I do. (Don’t push, Simon.) 

“Simon, can I–– I shouldn’t…”

Baz is stumbling over his words. He never loses his words. This must be fucking him right up. 

"Do it, you twat. I want you. All of you. You won’t hurt me. I want it."   
I’m panting and dripping, and his fingers are still pushing into me, and his mouth is against my skin, and Merlin, I want more. 

“What if I do? What if I can’t––?” 

“I’ve got you. Do it now. You won’t. We won’t." 

His mouth is on my neck, so gently. Kissing, licking, breathing, nipping, biting. Then biting and …

It’s so good. It feels so right. It hurts and it’s hot. Little lights burst under his fangs and in my eyes and in my heart. 

I whimper when he pulls back. "Stay, please."

"I can’t, Simon. No more."

He’s panting. I imagine my blood on his lips, in his mouth, and it makes me shudder with pleasure.

"Fuck me, then, please. Let me – On top of you. Please?"

Only Baz could possibly understand that stream-of-trash stammer. He does, though. Because he’s mine. Because I’m his. There’s nothing left undone between us now. 

He lays back down and I clamber onto him with my normal lack of grace and style. I’d probably fall on him if not for my wings because – fuck – that bite was hot. I’m still shuddering. 

He’s shuddering too. Lying back against the pillows flushed with blood (my blood) and desire. 

"Fuck, Baz – I didn’t think you could look more stunning."

"Stop your chattering, Snow, and get on me."

Flustered enough to be crude and impatient.

I think I’ve broken him.

 **Baz**

I wasn’t going to bite him – properly – right up until the second I did. The taste of him is singing through me, killing all sensible thought. It’s not enough, but it’s enough for now.   
That’s it. Lines crossed. No boundaries left. Whole fucking everything. All in.

Now he’s lowering himself on to me like the clumsy oaf he is. (Fuck, it’s blinding. He’s blinding.) 

I realise I’m gripping him far too tightly by the hips. It must be bruising him. He clearly gives not even one tiny fuck, if the rock of his hips and the lewd moaning is anything to go by. His tail is wrapped around my leg, hardly moving but hot as hell. Soft and scaly and deliciously wrong.

It’s all too much all of a sudden. His wings are too fucking extravagant. His tail is too lascivious. His moans too erotic – it’s all too good. I don’t even have time to let him know before I’m coming, hot and hard, inside him. 

He crashes his lips into mine and growls my name into my mouth as the waves of searing heat roll through me. 

He whines when I roll him off me then whimpers as I retract my fangs and take him in my mouth. (I’m tasting each and every single thing he’s got to offer today.) It won’t take long. 

He’s thrashing and thrusting and yanking my hair. Completely ferocious and primal. Utterly Simon.  
So utterly Simon that he has to push every last boundary, never standing down. His tail snakes around my waist and down the cleft of my arse, nudging against me. 

I howl around his cock. 

What. The. Fucking. Fuck.

"Baz, now– It’s now. I’m––"

I swallow him down, pulling him further in as he gasps and swears and begs. 

It takes a while for us to breathe normally again. As ‘normal’ as two monsters get. 

“I think there is a bit of potential for experimentation here, love,” I tell him.

“There certainly are some possibilities I hadn’t fully considered, darling.” 

I tug him into a kiss then lick the end of his tail where it’s found its way around my wrist. He lets out a huff of air then laughs before breathing his wings back in so he can tuck himself under my arm.

“We’ve got forever.”

I laugh then too. I’ve got forever to explore Simon’s body. A month ago, I was wanking to half remembered kisses. Trying to recapture the few moments we had together. 

It’s all as glorious as it is unexpected. I wanted Simon for so long. I was willing to accept anything he could offer. It turns out that the boundaries of what he might be willing to offer are so much wider that even my wildest fifth year fantasies.

“Baz?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Shall we do the whole talking thing for a bit and then you can bite my scars while I fuck you with my tail?”

I splutter in a way which can only be described as most unbecoming for a Pitch. 

There are never any half measures with Simon and I want everything he’s offering. 

All in. Whole selves. Everything. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://sourcherrymagiks.tumblr.com/) 💕💕


End file.
